Now that September is well underway there is a balancing act to be undertaken. I live in a seaside town, and chunk of the income of the place is dependent on tourists, especially those who come from Barcelona and the surrounding towns to enjoy a day on the beach. We have a long, if not over large beach and it can take thousands of tourists comfortably. But we who live here have expectations. We feel cheated if we are not able to walk to the beach and claim for ourselves a spot with a clear uninterrupted view of the sea.
As September is the month in which most people go back to work after the summer holidays, we venture forth to the beach in the hope of finding it relatively empty. I use the word ‘relatively’ because, even in the most inclement weather, our beach is never totally deserted.
Anyway, the weather in early September has been good (apart from yesterday when we had a special storm warning, for a special storm that did not occur) and beach-worthy. So, clutching our chairs we set off for the beach and had a couple of hours or more in very pleasant sunshine, occasionally venturing into the warmish waters of the Med. So far so good.
The real problems started when we arrived back home. We stacked the chairs, hung out the towels and brushed the sand off backpacks, and went indoors to have the welcome shower to get rid of the stubborn stand that loves sun cream!
And we were bitten to buggery and back again by rabid mosquitos. It was a concentrated attack the like of which I have not known before! The only episode I can compare it to was when we visited the Everglades in Florida and were pleasantly surprised by the lack of antagonistic insect life that we were warned to expect. Then there was a brief rain shower after which swarms of kamikaze insect life threw itself at us. We made a run for the car, while picking up broken branches of vegetation which we used to belabour each other in a vain attempt to dislodge the bloodsuckers – which were large enough to see clearly on our unprotected skin.
The mosquitos in Castelldefels seem to resort to greater use of local anaesthetic when they plunge their probiscis into tender skin, so that the damage only becomes apparent after the damage has been done and the pain starts spreading.
It is our firm belief that mosquitos know that September is the beginning of the end for them as winter approaches and they perish, so there is a fanatical putsch to get as much iron via our blood to fulfil the quota for egg laying before the harsh months of the winter begin.
When we inspected the damage, we saw that the multiple stings had raised welts that merged into one another so that there was an embossed isthmus of pain along the thigh. Individual hit-sites on head, face, neck and stomach added to the all-over misery of discomfort.
A cold shower gave momentary relief, but reality hit as soon as the water stopped.
We know that this is the ‘last fling’ of doomed females trying to propagate before the ultimate insect zapper of winter puts an end to the pain – but that doesn’t ease the pain of their frantic attempts to drain.
When we went to the beach the next day, we planned the way we were going to get through the ‘garden’ in hour house, open the door and gain the relative tranquillity of the inside.
It was more like a military operation as we surged through the invisible pests and slammed the door shut on the swarm. And pain free, we felt we deserved a congratulatory cup of tea to celebrate unpunctured skin.
And since then the weather has not been conducive to beach lounging. Such is life!
